


C'mon, Lose Control

by ghostboi



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: "I'm a guy with needs", Canon-Typical Violence, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masochism, joker digs the bat's loss of control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1330666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostboi/pseuds/ghostboi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No, my favorite part was watching him lose some of that stoic control. It was watching it crumble, like a falling building; it was when he was slamming me to the wall, his face almost touching mine."</p>
            </blockquote>





	C'mon, Lose Control

**Author's Note:**

> prompts (any/all): losing control; rage and desperation; play the cards right

I like the way he watches me. There's something behind those eyes, the way he, ah, stares. They're filled with secrets and darkness. He has his own darkness. That mask he wears? He's not just hiding from the world, he's hiding from himself. He's hiding from his, ah, _rage_ and his _need_ to let that inner monster take over.

He lets go of some of that control when he's beating the hell out of the, uh, bad guys. I should know, he walloped me good just last night. & if I'm gonna talk to myself and these walls in here, I guess I might as well admit that I liked it. I like a little pain, yea. Makes me all giddy inside, it's so much fucking _fun_. It wasn't _just_ the pain though. No, my favorite part was watching him lose some of that stoic control. It was watching it crumble, like a falling building; it was when he was slamming me to the wall, his face almost touching mine. His breathing was hard, ragged, that chest heaving beneath all that armour he wears. Fists clenched, one tangled in my hair (not that I had planned on, ah, going any where). It was the way his eyes burned through me with his rage and his desperation. For all his strength, he couldn't bully me into giving him what he wanted. I liked it too much and he _knew_ it. [What he didn't know was that I was fighting my own urge to, ah, give him what _I_ wanted.] I laughed because he thrills me. I laughed because he turns me on, like knives turn me on. I laughed because, in all my time doing this, noone else has made it this much fucking _fun_. Noone else has come close to doing to me what he does to me _on the inside_. 

He's like the pain he inflicted on me - he makes me a little giddy, a little high. He's a thrill. He's _fun_. We need each other, him and me. He doesn't realize that yet but we need each other. He's my thrill and I'm his challenge. I'm his reason to keep doing what he does. I'm his _sanity_. 

Right now he's out there watching me through that mirror window. If I, ah, play my cards right, I'll draw him in here, push him to that point few others can push him, that place where he loses a little of his control. I'll push him and he'll hit me again. I get a little excited thinking about it, a little hard. Cuz maybe I'm a little bit of a masochist. [No, I'm not crazy, I'm a guy with needs. I need my knives, and blowing things up, and sometimes a little pain. Yea.] I'll push him to that point, maybe push him further, if I play my cards right (and I'm, ah, good with cards).


End file.
